She muttered prayer after prayer, while reminding the heavens of the urgency of her intolerable situation.
A gentle tap on her shoulder startled her to her feet and sent her stumbling, though she was quick to right herself.
“I did not mean to alarm you or intrude on your prayer time,” Sister Mary said in a respectful hush for her surrounding. “The Abbess wishes to speak with you immediately.”
Sara burdened her mind with the last few days’ activities, wondering what she had done now to annoy or upset the Abbess. Try as she might, she always managed to get herself into some type of quandary. It just served to prove that she was not at all suited to becoming a nun.
She draped her heavy blue wool shawl over her head and around her shoulders as they left the chapel and the last stirrings of a winter wind stung her cheeks red. “Do you know what it is she wants of me?” she asked.
Sister Mary shook her head. “The Abbess did not say, though I think it has something to do with the man who waits with her.”
Sara froze abruptly in her tracks. Had she heard the sister correctly? A man!
Sister Mary halted her own tracks once she realized Sara was not keeping pace with her. “Are you all right?”
“I am wonderful,” Sara said, startling the sister by rushing up to her, taking hold of her arm and practically dragging her along. “Miracles, Sister Mary. Today is a day of miracles.”
Chapter 2
Cullen’s broken heart shattered completely. His search couldn’t end like this. He had traveled miles alone, purposely avoiding people when possible. It couldn’t be known that Cullen Longton remained in Scotland. The king’s soldiers would be on his trail in no time, though he would battle them and heaven and hell to keep his promise to his beloved Alaina. He had lost her; he couldn’t lose their son.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Longton,” the Abbess said. “At least you have the solace of knowing your son received a proper Christian burial.”
The woman was wrong; she had to be wrong, he thought. Alaina had fought with her dying breath to tell him of the son she had birthed. She had told him of how loudly the babe wailed upon entering the world, how his son had been forcefully taken from her alive and well, and that she had never seen him again.
With her final breath, Alaina begged him to find their son and keep him safe. He had relived those last few moments of her life every day since it happened over five months ago. And his tireless search had brought him here to Stilmere Abbey. He had planned to find his son and then settle his debt with Alaina’s father, the Earl of Balford, the man responsible for her untimely death.
Cullen stared at the Abbess, tall and regal in her white robe, a large gold cross resting against her chest. She was a woman of God and yet he didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her. “My son can’t be dead.”
“I’m afraid he is,” the Abbess said gently. “He took but a few breaths, then perished quietly. His grave rests here in the abbey’s cemetery, on sacred ground.”
“I want to see it,” Cullen demanded sharply.
“Of course,” the Abbess agreed. “You will want to offer your own prayers for his soul.”
Cullen followed the woman out of the room and down a long corridor. His heavy footfalls caused an eerie echo against the stone pathway. He had shed his worn sandals, soiled kilt, and threadbare shirt for fresh ones as soon as he left his half brother Burke’s ship at St. Andrew harbor.
He hadn’t known he had a half brother from America, and if it hadn’t been for Burke and Storm, the once infamous outlaw angel of the wrongly accused, he would have rotted in prison. They had rescued him and reunited him with Alaina, with plans for all of them to sail to America and start a new life in the Dakota Territory. It seemed to Cullen that his father had provided more than well for his family, for he now had more wealth than he knew what to do with.
Burke had provided him with enough coins and the promise of more if needed. Burke even offered to remain with him and help him search for his son. Cullen had preferred to go it alone. This was for him to do—to find his son.
If his presence in Scotland were known, there would be a bounty on his head. Soldiers would search tirelessly for him, though they would look for a man far removed from his renewed appearance. Freshly bathed, his long brown hair shining from its recent washing with single braids at the sides, and a tartan of bold red, black, and yellow over a pale yellow linen shirt, all announced him a man of stature and means.
The Abbess, upon meeting him, had addressed him respectfully, though after his initial inquiry into his son, she appeared to grow uneasy, though kept her calm. That he had disturbed her made him think that perhaps the Abbess hadn’t been completely honest with him.